The Last Heiress Of The Underworld

Eyes of hell fire, brighter than a coal aflame revealed to me their menacing beauty.

And bewitched, I stood bound by a  reality no different from fantasy, for before me was the god spoken of in ancient hymns, the Ruler of the dead.

My grip on the curtain loosen and soon my hand falls limp to my side as I stood in a daze, long enough for a look of nonchalance and a weak smile to be unable to compensate for my rude stares.

This King was not atop any extravagant throne, nor a golden wreath crowned his lustrous hair like ink as he languidly leans back by his bed and under those amber eyes, even the most calmest of souls would falter, with its gaze never to be the first to avert its focus, but they were indifferent to the world, and far from welcoming.

"Can you cure me, mortal child?" A deep voice questions in annoyance.

Audibly I gulp, complaining in my heart, a sweet old man was so much better!

The journey that brought me to this  very moment started of with an argument, an argument that I now I wish my mother had won.

And my mind starts to play an awful dramatic music in que for a flashback.

"So you want to spent your summer alone, and in the middle of nowhere." A woman in her early forties scoffs her grey eyes glaring behind large reading glasses as she flips through the pages of the file in her hands.

"I won't be by myself, I will have two maids to look after me." Maintaining a straight face, I say in my most persuasive tone.

She sets the file down on the table and looks at me, exasperated and I knew then that I was in for a rundown of all those times I messed up in my life.

"Do you remember the time you to stayed with Aunt Irene? You broke your cousin's nose! right after he FRACTURED your leg." She sighs looking away as if feeling sad for the poor boy and not her innocent daughter. "There is no way that I would let you stay in that old house even if you had an entire army guarding you."

"Because my love." Her tone softens as her lays down her glasses. "You're a ten year-old soul inhibiting a fifteen year-old body with the MINDSET of a five year-old who plays with a two year-olds toys!!"

Her graceful features contours in anger, and nearby my father who chose to remain in neutral territory hides behind his newpaper presumably smiling at his daughter's plight.

My lips part in a deep sigh stopping  myself from rebuking her every word, not even pointing out that I, as a matter of fact fractured my leg when I fell into a ditch, or how my cousin deserved to get his nose broken for smaking down my ice-cream. And how I am actually SEVENTEEN, something she very well knew, but it seems to be a norm for mothers to either raise or lower their children's age according to the situation.

And seeing no other way to get through to this practical mother of mine, I give into emotions. "Ma, you know that...that I miss Nana. And we haven't gone back to that house ever since she passed away."

"Its been four years and now you are selling it...I understand that you don't want to leave it empty so you have to  give it away. But please let me stay stay there for a month, that place has too many memories I have of her."

"Ma please."